Around date number 25 I was getting tired, and that's when I realised no one should do this. I'd been out with half of New York and I wasn't finding anyone to love, I was just finding more and more reasons to love wearing sweatpants. By the time I was listening to date number 30 explain how many degrees he was from Kevin Bacon it dawned on me that as much as I adore dating, forcing myself to perform this weekly hat trick was taking the joy out of meeting new people. I got home from my last date, slid into my sweats, ordered myself a pizza and wondered if I'd even learned anything through this experience.
Last year when I interviewed "Millionaire Matchmaker" Patti Stanger I asked her about goal setting when it comes to dating. "Love is not a numbers game," she reminded me. "If you approach your love life the way you approach your work life, you're going to disrupt the flow of the Universe and squeeze it to death. You can't be in control of every little thing and if you pretend you are, you may end up ruining the magic." I didn't listen to Patti, and instead I tried my hand at 30 dates in 30 days. Was it worth it? If we're measuring success by whether or not I made it, sure. I met the goal. If worthiness is measured in finding someone to love, then I suppose Patti was right, I ruined the magic.
That's OK though. I know I'm better off alone than with the wrong person. As far as what's next for me, I may take a dating hiatus and treat myself to some solo time in NYC. Without a stacked calendar and all my time spent swiping, perhaps I'll find out what happens if I stop orchestrating everything so much and just let the Universe do its thing.